


Triptych

by ButterflySunrider



Series: Triptych [1]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Adorkable, Almost Kiss, Because #yuletide, Because of Reasons, Bromance, Demons Are Assholes, Duelling, F/M, Fights, First Kiss, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Headcanon, Last Kiss, Love at First Sight, Mind Rape, Not All Characters Apply to All Chapters, Not All Tags Apply to All Chapters, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reminiscing, Snow Equals Love, So much blushing, What We Have Here Is An Idealist, Winter Solstice, Young Love, but not like that, kids are assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflySunrider/pseuds/ButterflySunrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Wintersend and Teryn Bryce Cousland's family have been invited to the celebrations in Redcliffe. </p><p>A young man returns home to visit for the first time in three years, different than how his foster father remembers him.</p><p>This is where Cousland's pup, Elissa and Arl Eamon's ward, Alistair meet for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Best Behavior

Elissa Cousland  
Winter, 9:23 Dragon

 

“When you meet Master Nathaniel, I want you to be on your _best_ behavior, Pup,” intoned my father, more seriously than usual. 

“Even if he is about as fun to be around as a wet blanket,” retorted my mother.

We were making the journey by carriage from Highever to Redcliffe, as King Maric and several noble families were descending upon the arling during the Winter Solstice Holiday. Redcliffe’s celebrations for the Winter Solstice were renowned throughout Thedas; indeed, an invitation to the festivities was a privilege to be cherished. I had just turned thirteen, and being the younger of Teyrn Cousland’s children, and a daughter at that, I was expected to start looking for a prospective husband amongst the boys of the nobility, preferably one who would not lower our standing.

“If you have something to say about the arrangement, then spit it out, Eleanor my love,” sighed my father.

Fergus shifted uncomfortably in his seat across from us and next to his wife Oriana and newborn son Oren. Our parents loved each other fervently, but when they quarreled, they did so with equal passion. My mother took Fergus’s hand and squeezed it affectionately. “Be at ease, Fergus. There isn’t enough room in this carriage for a proper fight.” Oriana was either too busy cooing at Oren to notice the tension, or she was just being Antivan. I admired her very much, and her ability to keep her machinations close to her chest was indicative of a subtlety of nature lost on most Fereldan women.

My mother turned to my father. “Bryce, she may not even _like_ the boy. There are more suitors for her to choose from. Let her take her time.”

“We were an arranged marriage, darling. Perhaps she will be as fortunate as we,” answered my father. “But, I will heed your advice. It’s not like she’s going to run into any boys in the castle who would cause a scandal.”

“Mmm,” hummed my mother, and the conversation thus ended.

~~~

We arrived shortly after the breakfast banquet was served. Arl Eamon Guerrin, being the gracious host he was, insisted that his household leave their meal to greet us. The first thing I saw when I stepped out of the carriage was the Arl and his family bowing to us; Eamon, his Orlesian wife Isolde holding their newborn son Connor, and a blonde boy with sun-kissed skin who looked to be about my age.

After they straightened, the Arlessa looked at the boy with disdain. “Stand up straight, Alistair. Show some manners towards your betters.”

My parents looked at each other, and then at the Arl, who exhaled through a frozen smile, making a hissing sound in the process. “So _good_ to see you, Bryce. Breakfast has just been served.”

“Oh!” my mother brought a hand to her mouth. “I hope our late arrival has not deprived you too much!” The nobility of Redcliffe were known to take early suppers, so breaking fast was something... _eagerly_ anticipated to say the least. 

“Nonsense!” the Arl said warmly. But Alistair’s stomach growled loudly, and I giggled despite myself. The arl ruffled the blushing boy’s hair. “Well, maybe our Alistair is feeling a bit deprived. He is, after all, a growing boy! Come, let us break fast together. Hopefully, we can swallow a few morsels before Maric arrives.”

“The King is not here yet, then?” asked my mother.

“No,” Eamon shook his head sadly. “He hasn’t been as...punctual...since my sister died.”

Our family followed the Guerrins back into Redcliffe Castle. The Arlessa almost immediately took her leave, saying she would take her morning meal in her room while she fed Connor. As she walked away, Alistair visibly relaxed. Arl Eamon sighed. “Please excuse my wife. Connor’s birth was a difficult one, and she has not yet recovered.”

Alistair mumbled something under his breath, then made a beeline towards the buffet table, piled a Qunari-sized meal onto his plate before sitting down and began to eat voraciously, shyly looking up at me every so often. I felt my cheeks flush and tried to smile back, but that just made him look away.

“I thought young Alistair had been sent to The Chantry,” mused my father.

“Yes, well. He’s been gone for three years, but I recalled the Winter Solstice as being his favorite, and so made arrangements with the Grand Cleric to...borrow him for a few weeks. But instead of being happy, he’s been sullen, holed up in his old room reading books.”

My father patted the arl on the shoulder. “Boys will be boys, Eamon. Give him time. He’s probably just going through a moody phase.”

Eamon smiled, a little sadly at first, then brightened. “I—I’m sure you’re right, Bryce. Come, have a seat.”

My family took their seats while I scurried to the buffet table and perused the spread. I heard a soft voice behind me. “There’s cheese there. From the Anderfels. It’s... _very_ good. If you like cheese. That is. Of course, if you don’t like cheese, you—”

I turned around and beheld a blushing Alistair. He immediately lowered his eyes and bowed. “Am—am I bothering you my lady? I’m sorry. I...probably shouldn't be talking to you.”

I smiled warmly at him and he relaxed somewhat. “My _lady_?” I said with a giggle. “I’m a little young for that, don’t you think?”

“The daughter of Teryn Cousland is never too young to be treated with respect,” he said quietly.

It was my turn to blush. My heart fluttered, but I managed to collect myself enough to extend a trembling hand to the boy. “Please, call me Elissa.”

He took my hand. I know it sounds silly, but even then it felt like our hands...belonged together. Like two puzzle pieces sliding into place. “Elissa,” he repeated.

My brother came up from behind. “Ah, don’t let my sister near the cheese. Makes her break wind something awful!”

I felt my cheeks turn a shade of crimson to match my hair, and spun around to pummel Fergus’ chest with my fists. “Maker, would you shut it?”

“Just trying to save you the humiliation,” my brother said with a smirk.

“Go _away_ ,” I said, sticking out my tongue. I turned back to the table and realized that Alistair was still there. “Oh! I didn't think you’d still be here. I—my brother is _so_ embarrassing.”

Alistair smiled gently. “Yes, big brothers can be like that.” He paused before continuing, “So I’m _told_.”

~~~

Finally seated with my family and feeling self conscious, I picked absentmindedly at my food. Alistair had to go outside and greet each arriving dignitary along with Eamon, so I didn’t see him much during the meal. When the Howes arrived, Nathaniel, the eldest, was seated next to me.

Like I said earlier, Fereldans are not known for their subtlety. Even Oriana rolled her eyes at the obviousness of my parents’ intentions.

“Hello, Lady Elissa,” Nathaniel whispered, staring down at his plate.

“Good morning, Master Nathaniel.” Arl Rendon Howe’s eldest son was a year younger than me and, at that time, shorter. Still, he bristled at my seeming diminishment of his station.

“You should call me Ser. I am, after all, the eldest in my family, and heir to the Arling," he snapped. "You are not only the youngest, but a _girl_ , so you stand to inherit nothing. Your parents’ naked posturing, throwing you at me so you don’t end up on the streets is rather embarrassing, don’t you think?” He sat back in his chair and appraised me. “You should show your future husband more respect.”

I raised my eyebrow at him and briefly turned to look at my parents, who were engrossed in conversation with the Teryn Loghain and his wife Celia. Seeing that they were not paying attention, I loaded a spoon with my neglected bread pudding and flung its contents in Nathaniel’s face. “I am still a Teyrn’s daughter, you little twit. Your family stands to gain far more from this... _arrangement_ than mine, so stop putting on airs!”

Nathaniel wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and scowled, before smoothing his expression in an effort to regain his dignity. “We should take this outside and settle this like proper nobility. A _duel_.”

You’re on!” I scooted my chair back and made to leave the table, but our respective parents noticed. 

“And where do you think _you’re_ going, Nathaniel?” asked Arl Howe.

“Uh…” Nathaniel stammered.

“We were going to go for a walk, Arl Howe. Nathaniel wanted to show me how to skate on Lake Calenhad.” I was always a good liar.

Our parents smiled, pleased at this development. My father turned to my mother. “See?”

Nathaniel took my hand. “My lady?” and led me towards the door.

Nathaniel and I jerked our hands apart as soon as we were out of range.

“Do you even _know_ where you’re going?” I asked Nathaniel as he stalked ahead of me.

“‘Course I do!” he grumbled.

“Maybe you should ask for directions,” I taunted.

“Maybe you should shut it,” retorted Nathaniel.

I snorted. “Really? Shut it? That’s the _best_ you have? I thought you were educated. I guess standards in Amaranthine are lower than those in Highever,” I replied loftily.

The dark haired boy turned to give what I’m sure he thought would be a scathing rejoinder, but as he had also kept walking, he ended up bumping right into Alistair, who was engrossed in a book about the Grey Wardens.

“Oh. Sorry!” exclaimed Alistair.

“Watch where you’re going... _bastard_!” sneered Nathaniel. Alistair’s eyes widened, and he bit his lip in embarrassment, but said nothing.

I couldn’t understand why he didn’t defend himself, so I launched into it, grabbing Nathaniel by the shoulder and spinning him around to face me. “You little _shit_!”

“My lady that’s—” Alistair began, but I was just getting warmed up.

“How _dare_ you! He is our host,” I raged.

“— _really_ not necessary, you see, because I—” Alistair continued, pleading for calm.

“You’re lucky we’re not in Highever. My daggers are there. Your mother would be weeping by the time I was done with you!”

“— _am_ a bastard.” Alistair concluded quietly.

“ _What_?” I asked, feeling my heart twist in my chest for reasons I did not yet understand.

Alistair looked at the ground. “It’s true.”

~~~

I was crestfallen. Though I was only thirteen at the time, my parents’ fussing over my future had been weighing heavily on my mind. During breakfast, I had found myself weighing my options. 

Vaughan Kendells, the son of the Arl of Denerim, was a boor, and tripped the elven servants when his father wasn’t looking. 

Nathaniel was...Nathaniel. Ugh.

The rest of the boys were from outside Ferelden. Though my relationship with my Antivan sister-in-law was a good one, I was unsure if I would be happy in Antiva. It was so far away from my family, and I loved them dearly.

There was no one in attendance from Orlais. Fitting, since tensions between King Maric and Empress Celene were still high. The same went for Tevinter. No proper family in Ferelden would host a fete for a guest from Tevinter. The only representative from Nevarra was a bored looking young woman from the Pentaghast family with a name too long for me to remember.

Sebastian Vael, one of the princes of Starkhaven, was a little older than me, and handsome enough, but I’d heard he was, well, a _bit_ of a slut. The lecherous looks he gave the other women at the gathering were nauseating.

Everyone else was too young or too old to consider. I realized that I had been hoping that Alistair would be...an _option_ , at least. Don’t get me wrong, I hardly knew him at the time. But even then I recognized his potential.

And he was _cute_.

~~~

Upset, and unable to articulate why, I clenched my fist and swung at Nathaniel. 

Alistair got in the way. I ended up punching him in the eye.

Nathaniel crowed with laughter as Alistair clutched his face.

“I’m _so_ sorry!” I gasped, mortified.

“It’s alright,” said Alistair. “At least I know _someone_ here isn’t all talk.” Then he punched Nathaniel on the jaw.

Nathaniel yelped in pain and scrambled to his feet. “Where is the armory, bastard?” he shouted.

“Down the hall and to your left,” growled Alistair. As Nathaniel turned towards his destination, Alistair continued, “ _Why_?”

Nathaniel smirked and pointed at me. “Because _she_ needs to learn to respect her future husband.”

“Future... _husband_?” Alistair looked at me, confused.

I twisted my hands nervously. “It’s—it’s not set in stone. Our parents are friends, you see, and—”

“They want to make sure their daughter doesn’t marry beneath her station,” Nathaniel concluded.

“Well, not _too_ far, at any rate,” I quipped.

“Oh,” Alistair said, and that was all he said. Then he suddenly got very interested in the Orlesian rug the Arlessa had decorated the castle with.

“You _like_ her!” Nathaniel said with a widening grin, even as he rubbed his sore jaw. "Oh, how _pathetic_!"

“What? _No_!” Alistair blushed furiously. “Of _course_ not,” he added quietly.

“Alistair and Elissa, sitting in a tree—” taunted Nathaniel.

“Shut it!” Alistair and I said in unison. This only delighted Nathaniel more. Soon he was rolling around on the Orlesian rug, laughing hysterically.

I rolled my eyes. “Excuse me, I have a duel to attend.” I reached down, grabbed Nathaniel by the ear, and pulled him to his feet. “Ours. Let’s go, Future Husband.”

I stalked off towards the armory with the boys trailing behind me. When we arrived, I practically lunged for the weapon rack. 

Alistair pointed towards the far corner of the room. “There are practice weapons in the cabinet over th—”

I plucked a matched set of daggers from the rack, twirled them in my hands, and laughed. “Practice, nothing. I play for _keeps_.”

I tilted my head in the direction of the weapons rack and grinned. "Pick your poison, _darling_!"

Nathaniel sighed. "I'm afraid we are at am impasse. My weapon of choice is a bow."

I sputtered, "What were you _thinking_? You can't duel with a bow!"

"Not if you favor the daggers, no," Nathaniel replied. He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor.

Alistair spoke up. "Wait a minute, you can still spar."

Nathaniel and I turned to look at him, curious. Suddenly bashful from the attention, Alistair averted his eyes as he continued, "You can shoot at her," he said pointing at our young archer, "and you," he said, turning his gaze on me, "can evade him, attempt to..." He cleared his throat, "get him on his back, to submit. Whoever ends up standing over the other, weapon pointed, that can get the other to yield...wins."

"Fine by me," Nathaniel said coolly. He grabbed a bow and a quiver full of steel-tipped arrows. They looked sharp.

"Wait," Alistair said, laying a hand on Nathaniel's arm, "you're going to use _live_ ammunition?"

Nathaniel smirked. " _She_ started it." He raised his eyebrow at me. "She could have reached for a practice weapon, but she didn't. Milady Elissa raised the stakes. I would be a coward if I did not answer her in kind."

I gulped, but nodded. My temper and pride had gotten me into plenty of trouble already at that age, and they weren't about to stop anytime soon. "He's right," I said, squaring my shoulders. "Ready when you are."

Nathaniel readied his bow. "Because I am a gentleman, I will give you a head start, _Milady_."

I holstered my daggers and ran towards some crates, Nathaniel's arrows in hot pursuit. They hit the crates as I dove behind them.

"Very nice, but you can't hide forever," Nathaniel taunted as he strode towards the wooden boxes to get a better angle.

I popped up from my hiding place and he fired. 

With a scream, I fell backwards. Alistair rushed over. "Elissa?" He stood over me, and undoubtedly saw what Nathaniel also saw; me, writhing in pain on the floor, with my right hand clutching an arrow at my opposite shoulder.

"What have you _done_?" Alistair exclaimed as he rounded on the smaller boy.

Eyes growing wider, Nathaniel slowly approached me, cautiously, like one would a downed beast. "I...I..." He stood over me then, and began to ready his bow once more.

"Nathaniel, no! She's down! You've made your point." Mingled with the fear in Alistair's voice was disappointment. He had been looking forward to being impressed by me and I had fallen short.

"I _order_ you..." Nathaniel began, plucking an arrow from his quiver.

"No!" Alistair exclaimed, and interposed his body between mine and Nathaniel's.

I turned towards the blond boy sharply. "Get _away_ from me!" I hissed through clenched teeth.

Startled, Alistair scrambled backwards, a look of hurt on his face.

"...to yield!" finished Nathaniel, with an expression of triumph.

I snapped my feet between his legs, tripping him and sending him crashing to the floor. Then I tossed the arrow I'd caught to the side, rolled over, and flipped Nathaniel on to his back, straddling him.

Grabbing him by the wrist, I slammed his arm against the floor until he released his bow. Then I drew my blade and held it to his throat.

"You _first_."

There I sat, grinning, chest heaving and triumphant. I looked up at Alistair. The way he looked at me, with so much pride and admiration, made me blush. In fact, I was so distracted by him that I didn’t notice the little dark haired girl enter the room.

“Nathaniel? Are you there?” It was Delilah, Nathaniel’s younger sister. She was about ten at the time. She saw me. “Oh! Lady Cousland!” She gasped with surprise and curtsied politely. “Where is my brother? The King is here and father is looking all over for him.”

I gulped and looked down. Her eyes followed mine, and my dagger clattered to the floor. Clearing my throat, I managed to stutter, “J-just a bit of fun!”

Delilah ran from the room. It was only a matter of time before both my parents and the Howes would come after us, but I feared more for Alistair’s safety than my own. It wasn’t like my parents would send me to a cloister over it. My mother might fret, but my father would act stern only until she was out of earshot, then congratulate me on my prowess. The Bastard had no such allies.

I leapt to my feet and took Alistair by the hand. “We have to go. _Now_.”

“Where?” he asked, as we started running aimlessly.

“Somewhere safe!” I shouted back.

Alistair took a sharp right. “I know _just_ the place!”

We came up on a flight of stairs and flew down them, almost stumbling in the process. Then Alistair took a hard left, taking me with him before stopping abruptly. I looked just past him and frowned. “The kitchen? _Really_?”

Alistair held a finger to his lips. “Ssh! Don’t know if there are servants in there.” He gently patted me on the back. “So, go check it out then.”

“Me?” I protested. “You _live_ here!”

He shook his head. “Not anymore. And Isolde may have... _released_ any remaining staff sympathetic to me. Besides…” he said with a bashful grin, “you’re the sneaky type. Lighter on your feet. Less likely...to be _caught_.” Then he raised a hopeful eyebrow at me.

How could I refuse him?

I slipped off my shoes and crept towards the kitchens, Alistair giving me encouraging looks all the while. He mouthed, “Get some cheese,” before giving me a silly smile.

I had just made it to the island counter when the approaching sound of gossipy elves set me in a panic. I ducked under a table and waited for them to pass. No such luck. As I tried to calm my racing heart and breath, I found myself again more worried about Alistair than myself. He had a good, open heart, but he lacked my cunning. 

“Did you see young Lady Cousland making eyes at Alistair this morning, Talia?”

Talia sighed. “Indeed I did, Bridhe. And he at her. Poor things, the both of them.” 

The one named Bridhe snorted. “That girl’s got more money than the two of us will ever see in our lives. She should be pitying us.”

Talia hummed a meandering tune. “Would you give up Mavaris if it meant the Arl’s money?”

Bridhe paused. “No. Of course not.”

Talia answered, “Then there you are. The boy’s going to be a Templar, Bridhe. Even if the Chantry allowed him to marry, a girl of her station would be out of the question.”

Bridhe intoned, “I suppose you’re right then. Come, I think the shems are out of bacon. Let’s bring up the next batch.”

The elves left the kitchen, and I took the opportunity, while I still could, to wrap as much food as possible in a dishtowel before returning to Alistair.

When I approached, he tilted his head curiously. “Is—is there something wrong?” He reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek that I hadn’t noticed was there.

“They were cutting onions,” I said.

“Ooh! Omlettes! Maybe _that_ will get Isolde out of her foul mood.” He peeked inside my makeshift parcel and inhaled happily. “Mmm! You’re _good_ at this!”

I smiled at him but said nothing. Indeed, I could not, for fear that I would start crying.

“Come on then,” he said with a smile before taking my hand again. “We’re not there yet.”

We slipped through the castle jail (which was empty, thank the Maker) and into a secret passageway that led to a nearby windmill. After gently picking the hay out of my hair, Alistair sifted through the rest that surrounded us, obviously searching for something, and grinned with triumph upon producing two identical parcels. He tore them both open with his teeth, then gently slipped something soft and warm over my head and shoulders before seeing to himself. It turned out that the parcels in question were a pair of matching green hooded cloaks, perhaps a little large for us, but not so much so that they would drag in the slush that awaited us outside. 

“We can travel in secret,” he whispered with a conspiratorial grin, “like bards...or assassins!”

I smirked. “Ooh! Are we going to Orlais? Antiva?” I would have gone with him anywhere if he asked me.

“Far enough to make it count,” Alistair replied, arching his eyebrow at me.

I squeezed his hand, and together we stepped out into snowswept Redcliffe, incognito. No one knew who we were, so we could just be ourselves.

Finally, Alistair was able to show off his knowledge of the local geography. 

We climbed the hills, tracing the myth of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, worn inscription by worn inscription. 

We snuck into the Chantry and had a picnic in the empty balcony. He made me try every variety of cheese I’d nicked from the kitchen, his face exploding into a delighted grin every time I found one that I liked.

Mostly we talked. He’d been living in the Chantry since he was nine, thanks to Isolde’s jealousy. He talked about it at length as we sat on the docks of Lake Calenhad, watching the sun set in pinks, purples, and golds. “It wasn’t that bad. Well, actually it _was_ , for the first couple of years. Everyone else was older than me and treated me like I was the runt of the litter at best and a burden at worst.” His face spread into a wide grin. “But then I got sent to Templar training and my roommate is the same age as I am! Serious though. Plays chess like a demon. Bit nervous and shy, but a good sort. Fascinated by mages and the Dalish. By the Maker, I think he _actually_ wants to understand them!” He gave me a mock incredulous look. “Can you believe it? What is Thedas coming to?”

“What’s your roommate’s name?” I asked.

Alistair snorted. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford. I called him by his full name for a month. Drove him _crazy_. What kind of name is that for a commoner from Honnleath, I ask you?”

As the first stars began to peek through the growing darkness, I leaned my head on Alistair’s shoulder and felt him tense up in response. I made to shift my weight away from him, but he whispered, “You don’t have to move.” Then he leaned his head against mine and took my hand in his, paused, and sighed, “You’re cold. I should take you back to the castle.”

I wasn’t thinking clearly. Exhausted from our trek through the snow, intoxicated by blossoming infatuation, and a touch delirious from being underdressed for the now-freezing outdoors, I whined, “But I don’t _want_ to go back. If we go back there will be trouble. Then, after the trouble’s over, you’ll go back to the Chantry and I will go back to Highever and that...will be that.”

Alistair sighed. “I know. But I want to tell you that this is the most fun I’ve had with anyone. Ever. I’ll never forget you, Elissa.”

He pulled away from me then, only to reach out and brush my cheek with his hand. “Soft,” he whispered.

I leaned in towards him.

He leaned in towards me and closed his eyes.

But just before I thought our lips would touch, Alistair’s eyes flew open. “Did you hear that?” He scrambled to his feet and pulled me to his side. “Come on, I think it’s not far. If we hurry, we can help.”

We ran from the docks into the village proper, our breath crystallizing in the moonlight. “Alistair, where are we going?”

“Can’t you hear it?” he responded.

“You must have elf hearing. I can’t-” Then I saw it. Him, actually. A tiny Mabari pup rummaging in the refuse for food.

Alistair picked him up and peered at him. “Bet you’re the runt of the litter too.” He walked over and placed the puppy in my arms. “I...already have a very large cat. You should keep him. But since I found him, I get to name him.”

“Oh really? What are you naming him then?” I asked.

“Dogmeat,” Alistair replied. 

Our attempt at our first kiss forgotten and replaced with raucous laughter, we returned to Redcliffe Castle with the dawn breaking all through the Hinterlands, setting the snow surrounding us sparkling like diamonds.


	2. School's Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Chantry boys are about to embark on two very different paths.

“I can’t _believe_ this is the last night we’ll be spending in this place,” murmured Cullen from the top bunk.

“Good riddance, if you ask me,” answered Alistair from the bottom bunk.

Cullen sighed. “I think you’re making a mistake. You’d make a great templar. Maker knows, the Order needs more compassionate men in its ranks.”

Alistair laughed. “You can be compassionate enough for the both of us then, Cullen Stanton Rutherford.”

Cullen groaned. Alistair only used his full name when he wanted to take him down a peg. “Oh, come off it. I wasn’t being _that_ sentimental.”

“At least if _I_ fall in love with a mage, I’d be able to pursue something with them,” countered Alistair. “You’re...rather shit out of luck.”

“I’m not going to _fall in love_ with a mage,” Cullen replied.

Alistair snorted. “Right.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “I’m sure there will be...female Templars...stationed at Kinloch Hold,” he said with some uncertainty.

“Did you ask Knight-Commander Greagoir about that? I can hear it now: ‘Ser, are there any girls there?’”

“Shut it.”

“‘Because if there are, I want to _do_ them!” Alistair laughed so hard that he fell off his bunk and onto the floor..

“Well. Aren’t you glad you don’t sleep on the top bunk?” Cullen asked. When Alistair was too busy giggling to answer, he continued, “Why do all the Grey Wardens who don’t die in a Blight, end up dying in the Deep Roads?”

That shut Alistair up. He stared up at the ceiling. After quite some time, he finally answered, “I don’t know.”

“Oh, so you didn’t ask then?” countered Cullen. “Maker! Read a book!”

Alistair looked up at his roommate with a peeved expression. “Don’t be smug. I can _read_ , you know.”

“Picture books don’t count,” retorted Cullen.

Alistair smirked. He was going to miss his friend. “I _hate_ you. You’re a bad person.”

Cullen put down his book and climbed down before pulling Alistair to his feet and into a bear hug. “Think I’m bad now?” he asked, releasing Alistair, who playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Carroll got assigned to Kinloch Hold as well.”

“Ugh. That guy?” asked Alistair.

“I _know_ , right?” Cullen responded.

“What an arsehole!” they said in unison.

Alistair clasped Cullen at the shoulder. "You _could_ become a Grey Warden. It's not too late..."

It was Cullen’s turn to laugh. “No _thank_ you, I still have most of my higher brain functions intact.”

“You won’t, once the lyrium kicks in,” replied Alistair, suddenly serious.

Cullen frowned, turned, and stroked the back of his neck nervously. “I can handle it.”

Alistair considered continuing what was turning into an argument, but he didn’t want Cullen to think that he had no confidence in him. He smiled. “Of course you can. Cullen Stanton Rutherford can do _anything_.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Then Alistair said, “It’s _true_ , you know. I can’t help but think you’re made for something more, something bigger than babysitting a bunch of imprisoned mages.”

“And _I_ think you’re better than being a glorified thief, taking everything and everyone who isn’t nailed down in case of a Blight. _Ooh, the Blight_!” Cullen wiggled his fingers in the air.

Alistair clasped Cullen by the arm. “So it’s settled. We are badasses.”

Cullen placed his hand over Alistair’s. “Yes we are. And we should go to bed. Big day tomorrow.” 

The young men let go each others hands and went to their respective bunks to sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part two of Triptych, a prequel to Herald and Commander: A Romance in Four Parts.


	3. There She Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knight-Captain Cullen meets a girl who will change his life forever. But when?

He saw her coming from a distance. Felt her, really. The lyrium coursing through his veins screamed “Mage!” But his eyes were nearly blinded by the light of the Kirkwall sun glinting off her snow white hair. Unusual for an elf as young as she, was his next thought. Most elves he'd seen had darker hair. And her eyes...were like sparkling amethysts.

_Wait, how did she get so close without me noticing?_

Knight-Captain Cullen Stanton Rutherford instinctively reached for his sword, but stopped just shy of actually drawing his weapon from its scabbard.

“Hello, can you give me directions to your library?” she asked. The lilt of the elf’s accent told him she was Dalish, even though she lacked the telltale vallaslin.

Cullen stared at her. _Do I look like a tour guide_? The girl paused, looked at his insignia, seemed to steel herself, and asked again. “Knight-Captain? Kirkwall _does_ have a library, does it not?”

“ _Of course_ we have a library!” Cullen spent most of his off hours there, and when he didn't have his nose stuck in a book, he was either singing in the Chantry choir or sitting on the docks, watching the tides come in and out.

Alone. Always alone. He didn't want to get attached to anyone.

Not after what happened at Kinloch Hold.

~~~

"Neria, no! You can't go up there. Uldred's gone mad!" Cullen stood in front of the staircase that led to the Harrowing Chamber, sword drawn.

Neria Surana, protegee of the First Enchanter, was frightened, but determined. "Irving's up there. Do you _really_ think he'd become an abomination?"

“I don’t know _what_ to believe anymore.” Cullen sighed and ran a gauntleted hand through his hair, almost getting it snagged on his curls in the process. He'd have to do something about those sometime. Made him too easy to catch, like the time Neria grabbed him by the hair and guided his mouth to hers in a hungry kiss...

~~~

"Are you going to tell me where it is or do I have to ask someone who is going to call me a knife-eared maleficar inside of a minute?" asked the Dalish girl, arms crossed over her chest impatiently. Bold little thing. Likely taking full advantage of Kirkwall's "live and let live" attitude towards the local clans.

"I wasn't going to—" he started.

"You were probably thinking it," she countered with a disappointed sigh, rolling her eyes and turning on her heel to leave.

 _I am going to regret this. I just know it_. "Wait."

She turned around. Again, the sun's refracting rays off her elaborately braided hair caused him to shade his eyes.

"It's in the Chantry."

~~~

"Let me go with you. I can protect you," he offered, extending his hand to hers. “It’s not safe for you there.”

Neria shook her head with a sad smile. “No, Cullen. You have to rally the other templars, help the rest of the mages escape.” She took the hand he held out to her and brought it to her cheek. Cullen closed his eyes. “Someone has to tell Greagoir what happened here. If I don’t make it—”

She was interrupted by an unholy roar from behind her. Instinctively, she fired in the direction of the sound, only to garner the attention of a Pride demon. “Cullen, _go_!”

But he remained, as if frozen in place. To this day, he doesn't know if it was fear or devotion that rooted him thus. _Does it matter? The result would have been the same._

~~~

“Won’t you get in trouble for leaving your post?” the girl asked. She still hadn't told him her name, said names had power. _Elves and their superstitions_.

“Samson will cover for me. This is Kirkwall, Dalish. It’s not like anything happens here, thank the Maker,” replied Cullen. If she wasn't going to give him a name, then he would give one to her. It was safer than calling her “Mage” anyway. Or "Apostate."

“I can’t _believe_ it,” Dalish giggled. “My first visit to Kirkwall and I've already got an armed escort. A real Knight in shining armor!”

Cullen found himself blushing. “Don’t get used to it,” he admonished her sternly.

The girl looked like he'd just struck her, and Cullen immediately felt a pang of regret. _Ridiculous_ , he scolded himself. 

_Remember, Mages aren't people_.

~~~

“What are you looking for? We don’t have time for this!” Cullen called out, as Neria alternated between throwing Blizzard spells at the Pride demon in an effort to slow his pursuit and searching frantically for a tome she’d said could help her stop Uldred.

“I need the Litany of Adralla. Oh, Maker! _Where_ did Irving leave it?” she answered breathlessly.

“I’d think his office would be our best bet,” replied Cullen.

Neria turned slowly to face him. “But to get to Irving’s office—”

Cullen finished her sentence. “—we’d have to go past the Pride demon. It’s suicide!”

Neria set her jaw, squared her shoulders and ran towards the demon. Cullen’s heart raced as he took off after her. “Neria!”

~~~

“Try to look casual,” Cullen suggested.

Dalish nodded soberly. She wasn’t talking to him and he didn’t blame her. But he didn’t want to give her any quarter either. That would give her power over him. He could not, and would not have it.

 _A little lyrium would go a long way towards eradicating these feelings of guilt_. Indeed, if he ever needed a shot of righteousness, all he’d have to do is break out his kit. But it also kept him from thinking too deeply about anything, and that bothered him. He could no longer concentrate enough to play a game of chess (even if it was only against himself) or read one of his beloved books for too long without having to stop. He pushed the nagging doubts from his mind. _Concentrate on the task at hand, Cullen. The sooner she has what she needs, the sooner you will be rid of her_.

“What is it that you’re looking for anyway?” Cullen shook his head. It felt like his voice was coming from a lifetime away. 

Dalish stopped, crossed her arms, and stared up at him defiantly.

“What?” he asked.

She wordlessly raised an eyebrow at him.

Cullen capitulated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ugh. I’m sorry, alright? Now tell me what you need!”

~~~

Cullen swung at the Pride demon, cutting a huge gash in its side. Ichor spewed from the wound, but the creature just laughed and swatted him halfway across the room, just far enough to leave Neria vulnerable. Cullen cracked his skull on the marble floor as he landed, not hard enough to cause permanent damage, but enough that he was seeing double when he finally got to his feet.

Neria’s back was to him. “I’ve _got_ it Cullen. Stay back.” He would remember later that she sounded eerily calm.

One more Blizzard spell was followed by Stonefist. The demon crashed to the ground and Neria turned to look at Cullen with a dazzling smile, the same one he’d become so infatuated with. “Cullen, we _did_ it!”

But it was a cruel joke. The Pride demon, gathering the last of its strength, plunged a mighty claw through Neria’s chest from behind before finally expiring.

Cullen forced himself forwards, even though he could feel the entropy of exhaustion setting in. “No no no no no no no.”

By the time he reached her, she could no longer speak. She just looked up at him with fear in her eyes, fear of what would become of him. Weakly, she tangled her hand in Cullen’s curls one last time, and drew him down so she could kiss him goodbye. 

When Cullen let her go, she was gone, and frosty air escaped his lips as he moaned in despair. He stiffened when he heard footsteps approaching. And when he looked up, he saw the only thing worse than a Pride demon.

She was voluptuous and naked, beautiful to behold even in her natural form. “You didn’t think it would be _that_ easy did you, my sweet boy?” She looked at the dead Pride demon on the floor. “ _He_ was just muscle.”

~~~

“At least tell the librarian if you don't want to tell me,” Cullen grumbled. “Go on, Dalish. She doesn’t bite.”

Dalish shrugged and asked casually, “Good morning. Would you happen to have a copy of the Litany of Adralla?”

It took all of Cullen’s collected discipline and strength not to faint.

The librarian stared at the girl, then stared at Cullen, then stared back at the girl. “What in Andraste’s name would a Dalish elf want with the Litany?”

The girl bit her lip. _Stop looking at her lips_ , Cullen thought. _You shouldn’t be looking at her lips_ _Her full, soft, pink, shining lips_ —. Cullen looked away and pretended to be preoccupied by something on the librarian’s desk. When she spoke, he turned his attention to her again, this time making a concerted effort to stare at her forehead, between her eyebrows, which he figured would be pretty harmless. “My clan is concerned about the apostates in the surrounding hills outside Kirkwall. We do not want to fall prey to abominations.”

The librarian leaned on the desk, her folded hands under her chin. “Yes, that’s all well and good, but don’t you Dalish have your _own_ magic?”

Dalish shook her head. “Nothing that doesn’t end up with an already possessed host killed, no. And from all accounts, the Litany _is_ effective. If it can protect my clan, I would like a copy.”

The Librarian laughed. “Oh! Well in that case, by all means, please take one. We have scores and scores of them on the shelves! I’m sure we can spare one for you.” Upon seeing the girl’s hopeful expression, her expression softened. “That was a _joke_ , dear. I’m sorry. But the only copy of the Litany that I know of in Kirkwall resides in the Circle Tower with Knight-Commander Meredith.”

When Cullen cursed under his breath, the girl turned her wide-eyed gaze on him. “Is that... _bad_?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the kinks that were starting to multiply there. “Yes, Dalish. It’s _very_ bad indeed.”

~~~

Cullen and Dalish walked down the white marble stairs that led to the Chantry just as the midday bells started to ring, scattering doves to the winds. “Knight-Commander Meredith is your boss, right?” the girl asked, “Why don’t you ask her for the Litany straight out? I’m sure she trusts you, and besides, it would be used to counter maleficars! You’d think she’d approve of that.”

“Knight-Commander Meredith is a lot of things,” replied Cullen, “but the sharing type isn't one of them. Even if _I_ asked her for it, and I’m her second in command.”

Dalish frowned, her golden eyebrows making a little crease in the skin between them. He was still looking at her forehead. “Sounds like _you_ need a new job,” she said with a sardonic laugh that belied her age. “But seriously now, that’s it? I go back to my clan empty handed?” She grunted. “Looks like I’ll be Second, I guess.”

Cullen came to an abrupt stop. “ _What_?”

Dalish looked up at Cullen and bit her lip again. “Well, what I told you about the maleficars was true. But it wasn't the _whole_ truth exactly. I just...didn't think you’d understand.”

Cullen crossed his arms across his chest. “Try me.”

~~~

When Cullen came to, he was trapped in a cell of sorts, magical in nature. Standing outside it was the Desire demon. 

And she had Neria’s body, seated on her lap like a puppet.

“Don’t you touch her!” Cullen screamed in agony.

The demon laughed and lasciviously slid her hand under Neria’s dress. “At this rate, I daresay I've touched her more than you have, sweet thing.” She smirked. “You never had her, did you? You _wanted_ to. You thought of all the places you might be able to steal away with her so you could claim her for your own. But...when you had the chance, you hesitated. That’s _so_ sad!” The demon laughed again. “At least it would be sad if it weren't so _pathetic_.”

The demon got up and dragged Neria’s body towards Cullen, laying her body out before him.“I _pity_ you, sweet thing. I really do. And because I pity you, I am willing to help you in your plight.” She sighed and stood to her full height. “I will _give_ her to you. She will live again, and the bloom of her love for you will be intact. You may have her in all the ways you wanted to but weren't man enough to try.”

“No,” Cullen said quietly.

The demon raised an eyebrow at him. “You _failed_ her. She was counting on you and you were too _weak_ to save her. You owe her another chance at life. You _owe_ her, sweet thing. And you owe yourself.”

Cullen shook his head. “Do you take me for a fool? It wouldn't be Neria. Not truly. It would be you, wearing her skin like a pelt.” He drew a deep breath to calm himself as best he could. “Neria is _gone_.”

“ _Is_ she?” asked the demon, smiling.

~~~

She was more beautiful than he had imagined, and that was _bad_.

Neria sat opposite Cullen, her naked body exposed to him. Sliding one hand between her legs, she moaned his name over and over, “Cullen, Cullen, Cullen, please take me! Now, before it’s too late!”

“Leave me!” Cullen begged in abject misery.

Neria got up and walked across the room to Cullen, only to straddle him and wrap her arms around his neck. “I love you. I've _always_ loved you. Don’t you want me?” she whispered before licking his ear.

“Maker, please make it stop!” Cullen cried out.

Neria chuckled. “There _is_ no Maker. There is only Desire.”

Then, as if from a great distance, Cullen heard the voice of an upper-class Fereldan woman. “Shall we knock?”

“Ooh, let’s!” 

The second voice he recognized. 

Alistair.

~~~

“The Keeper of Clan Lavellan is my grandmother, Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan. My mother and father were both gifted in magic, and were her First and Second, respectively. Thirteen years ago, my mother disappeared while on an expedition to the Arbor Wilds to collect ancient knowledge housed in the Temple of Mythal,” the girl began.

Dalish looked up, expecting Cullen to stare at her as if she’d been speaking gibberish. Instead, he said,“That means your father would have become the Keeper’s First.”

Her face lit up in surprise and Cullen smiled at her despite himself. “I’ve done some...light reading on the subject,” he said casually.

She continued, “Not for long. He went after my mother when she did not return. He also did not come back. My clan believes them both to be dead.”

Cullen’s face softened and he hesitantly and awkwardly patted the girl on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Dalish winced. “Thank you. My twin brother and I did not have much of a chance to mourn their passing. The Keeper needed a new First and Second. After all, what would happen to the clan if she died without a successor? Chaos. Maybe even war.”

“War within the clan?” Cullen asked.

“Yes,” Dalish answered. “So for the last decade or so, my brother and I have been training and...competing to see who becomes the Keeper’s First—”

“—and who becomes Second,” finished Cullen. “Is being First what _you_ want?”

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “What an _odd_ question.” Dalish shook her head. “I seek the position of the First because even though I love my brother, I think he lacks...leadership qualities. He is talented, but lazy. My clan needs someone who will get done what needs to get done.”

“And you think that someone is you?” asked Cullen.

“Well...who _else_ is it going to be? Anyone else with magical ability was kicked out, sent to other clans. Wouldn’t that be awkward. 'Oh, hello. We didn’t want you before, but now that you’ve made a new life somewhere else, can you come back? Because the people you were kicked out for don’t want the job.'”

“Still, you _can_ choose.” Cullen said softly.

“Did you?” asked Dalish.

“Did I what?” countered Cullen.

“Did you choose _this_ life? The life of a Templar?” she asked.

Cullen took a deep breath. “Sometimes it’s hard for even _me_ to believe, but yes, I chose this life.”

The surrounding area had become decidedly more dicey. Dalish asked, “So where are we going? This doesn’t look like anyplace a Circle Tower would be.”

Cullen offered her his arm. “This is Lowtown. Watch yourself. There’s someone at a place called The Hanged Man whom I need to talk to.” 

Dalish slipped her arm in the crook of his and together they walked inside and up the stairs to the second floor. “The Hanged Man? The Gallows? Kirkwall is a rather morbid place. Why did you come here? Your accent is Fereldan.”

“The _truth_?” Cullen asked. “There was no where else to go.” And with that, he reached out and knocked on an innocuous looking door.

~~~

A delicate clicking sound emanated from the doorway, followed by an impatient sounding groan. 

“Elissa, I’ve _got_ this,” said Alistair. 

“But Alistair, it could be—” Elissa began. 

Alistair kicked the door down. Elissa grumbled, “trapped.”

“Ow!” Ow ow ow ow ow!” cried Alistair.

“I _told_ you not to do that,” said Elissa. Cullen looked up to catch a glimpse of her. Red hair, like Neria, but human, and dressed in leather. She must have been the one fiddling with the lock. “Something’s broken, isn't it?” she asked Alistair.

“... _Maybe_.” admitted Alistair, grimacing.

“You are almost _embarrassingly_ stupid,” snapped a scantily-dressed young woman with dark hair.

“Wynne can take a look at it later.” Elissa said with an exasperated sigh. “For now, live with the consequences of your actions.” She looked at the older woman, a mage Cullen recognized. “I’m _joking_ , go ahead and cast your healing spell.”

“Is this supposed to be a rescue? You mortals…” The Desire Demon turned around only to be faced with Alistair, his shield raised, and his longsword pointed at her throat. “Bit chilly for that sort of getup, isn’t it?” he asked her.

The Desire demon smirked. “Did you _really_ think you could sneak up on me?”

Elissa popped up from behind and stabbed the demon hard in the victuals with her twin daggers before stepping back and letting Alistair behead her. “Yes,” she quipped. “Yes, we did.”

Alistair squinted at the magic prison across the room. “Maker's Breath! Cullen, is that you?” He and his companions rushed over to where Cullen was still trapped.

Cullen beat desperately against the walls of his prison, but it was no use. “The poor boy is exhausted!” murmured Wynne. “I’ve never seen _anything_ like it.” 

Everyone turned to look at the dark-haired, scantily dressed woman. “Do not look at me,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Tis not _I_ that cast this spell.”

Elissa stepped forward, putting her hand in a familiar way around Alistair’s waist and addressed Cullen. “Are you the only survivor?”

Cullen drew a ragged breath. “I...I don’t know. Are you _real_? Or have I gone mad and you are just a trick of my broken mind?”

Elissa looked up at Alistair. He piped up. “She’s real, Cullen Stanton Rutherford.”

Cullen collapsed to his knees. “Thank the Maker.” Then he looked around him. 

Scattered about the room were the bodies of two demons, ten templars and Neria. “Did you find no survivors on your way here?” he asked softly.

Elissa shook her head sadly. “I am sorry. We were able to save some of the Mages, but the only other Templars left alive are Greagoir and Carroll.”

Cullen grimaced. “Has Greagoir requested the Rite of Annulment?”

“He _has_ ,” she answered, “but it is out of the question.”

“ _What?_ ” Cullen screamed. “Have you gone _mad_? It’s _over_! The Circle is broken. Do you hear that screaming behind me? That’s the Harrowing Chamber. Uldred is turning the others into abominations. You _cannot_ allow them to live!”

Elissa answered, “I’m...sorry. I know this is upsetting for you, but—”

“ _Upsetting?_ ” Cullen turned sharply to look at Alistair. “ _Where_ did you find this woman?”

“The Joining,” Alistair answered. “She and I are the only Wardens left in Ferelden. The others were massacred at Ostagar, betrayed by Teryn Logain.”

“So you’re here for the treaties then. “ As long as Cullen could focus on something, anything other than Neria’s body, he would be all right. Maybe. “The Templars can aid you—”

“It’s not just the treaties we've come for,” said Alistair sadly.

“It’s Arl Eamon," said Elissa. "He’s been poisoned and a demon is running roughshod through Redcliffe, commanding the darkspawn to massacre the villagers.”

“Let’s be honest,” interrupted Alistair, “an abomination is commanding the darkspawn.”

“So. _Kill_. It,” answered Cullen through gritted teeth,

“That's _not_ an option. The abomination is Eamon’s son. He's just a boy,” countered Elissa.

“Kill him,” Cullen growled. “Mages aren’t people, they’re _monsters_. Even the children! They should all be locked up. Look what they’ve done, Alistair! _Please_ , make your fellow Warden see reason.”

Elissa shook her head and walked past Cullen up the stairs. “I’m going to go save the First Enchanter and kill this Uldred person. Maybe _that_ will break the cage you’re in.” 

Cullen looked at Elissa closely. She pulled out a thick tome and rested it on her hip.

"Is that...The Litany of Adralla?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"Where was it? Was it in Irving's office?"

Elissa shook her head. "No, a mage named Niall had it. He's dead." She paused on the top step and looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m...sorry this happened to you, Cullen.”

With that, her companions followed her up the stairs.

Alistair did not look at him.

~~~

The door opened. Cullen looked down to see a ginger-haired, beardless dwarf wearing an open shirt that showed off his copious chest hair. “Varric Tethras, I presume?”

“The one and only,” answered the dwarf. “Come in and have a seat.”

Cullen and Dalish sat down across from Varric, who kept his desk in what appeared to be his own personal private room at the Hanged Man. Dalish was growing tired, and she rested her hooded head on Varric’s table. Cullen leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “I have a couple of propositions for you. One, I need a copy of the Litany of Adralla. The closest one that I am aware of resides in Knight-Commander Meredith’s office. So, as you may have guessed, I cannot be directly connected to its _disappearance_.”

“The Litany of Adralla, huh?” asked Varric. “What would you need _that_ for?”

“It’s not for me _personally_ ,” admitted Cullen, “but the intentions behind its... _removal_ are...honorable.”

“Uh huh.” Varric raised an eyebrow. “And the second?”

Cullen sat back in his seat and Dalish nestled against him. He smiled and visibly blushed. “This young lady needs a place to rest her head until the tome is... _recovered_. Somewhere safe, where the Templars cannot get to her.”

“I have a place in mind. _However_ ,” Varric got up from his desk and crossed in front of his guests. “What are you willing to do for _me_ in return? There is significant risk, here.”

Cullen paused thoughtfully, looked down at Dalish, then met Varric’s eyes and nodded. “ _Anything you want_ that is in my power to grant. You need security during your...business dealings? My men and I can provide that. You need us to look the other way when smuggling something into Kirkwall? As long as it doesn’t involve the harming of innocents, I am willing to do that as well. I will owe you two favors. Just two. Try not to squander them.”

Varric twirled a pen between his fingers. “It’s a deal, Curly.”

“ _Curly?_ ” Cullen asked in surprise.

“Curly,” Varric said with an amused nod. “Hope you’re up for carrying her all the way to Hightown. It doesn’t look like she’s in any condition to walk that kind of distance.”

Cullen looked down at Dalish. She was petite and delicate. And she smelled nice. “I _think_ I can manage,” he said.

~~~

The terror-filled screams of the captive mages was replaced by howls of outrage. Cullen bowed his head. At least one abomination in there, then, and Alistair was fighting it. No one else in there was even close to being qualified to fight a demon and he hadn't even taken his vows. How would Alistair know whether the other mages were compromised without lyrium?

He should be there. If it hadn't been for Neria and her futile attempts to find the Litany he might not be in this situation.

She might still be alive. 

It was at the moment that Cullen made a decision. A vow to the Maker. Never again would he let a Mage determine his fate. They were flawed creatures, and only Templars truly understood the dangers they posed to the world.

As if the Maker Himself heard Cullen's prayer, the cage that held him dissolved. He slowly but determinedly made his way up the stairs to the Harrowing Chamber. He no longer trusted Alistair's judgement. His friend had allowed himself to be bewitched by _that woman_. What did _she_ know, anyway?

He was greeted at the doorway by Elissa, who was supporting a visibly drained First Enchanter Irving, and followed by several of the senior enchanters. He could swear he saw a smug expression on her face. An 'I told you so'. He stood firm, sword aloft, and blocked their exit.

"Stand down, Ser Cullen. It's over," Irving said gently.

Tears began to flow unbidden down Cullen's cheeks, and he trembled as he spoke, "It will _never_ be over," he said with a sob. "Not for me." _Weakness_. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Not _ever_."

Irving looked past Cullen. "Where is Neria?"

"Is that _all_ you care about? Your _pet_? All of the Templars, my _friends_ , are dead, and the only thing you care about is your prized pupil!"

"Not _all_ of us are dead, thank the Maker," said a familiar voice with an authoritative tone. 

Irving's expression turned from weary to relieved. "Greagoir. It appears that you're still stuck with me, thanks to the Grey Wardens."

Cullen turned to face his superior. "Ser, with all due respect, we don't know if these mages have been compromised. I strongly recommend that we apply the Rite of Annulment."

Elissa shook her head. "I disagree. There is no need to add any further to the already significant casualties."

Cullen raised his eyebrow at her. "I don't remember _asking_ you."

Alistair pushed his way past and faced Cullen. "Cullen, that's enough. She's my superior officer. Show her some respect!"

Cullen knew his friend well enough to know that this woman was much more than just a leader to Alistair. He sneered at him. "Did she cut off your balls, Alistair? Hmm? Maybe she can wear them as a necklace. Matches the other necklace I'm sure you've already given her!"

Alistair blushed crimson. He pulled his fist back to strike, only to have Elissa catch him by the arm. "Don't. You'll regret it."

Alistair nodded, and had started to walk past him when Cullen growled, "No. Balls."

Alistair turned towards Cullen and snapped, "At least _mine_ are getting some use."

Cullen struck Alistair with a closed fist.

"Ser Cullen!" shouted Knight-Commander Greagoir, "you are excused. Go to your quarters. Now."

~~~

When Varric opened the door to Hawke Manor, he was greeted by a white-haired Elven male covered in glowing white tattoos who was apparently on his way out. "Oh, hello Broody. Is Hawke in?"

"She was when I left her," was all the elf said before pushing past Varric and wandering off into the night.

Cullen turned to watch him leave. "Pleasant fellow."

"Yeah...looks like he and Hawke had a fight. Again." Varric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Still. Hawke lets me have the run of the place. I'm sure she won't mind." 

Varric led Cullen through the doorway, where they were greeted by Hawke's Mabari, Dogspawn. The dog wagged his tail and barked happily, slightly stirring Dalish as Cullen carried her over his shoulder. Varric laughed softly. "Dogspawn is an excellent judge of character. I'd say you just got his seal of approval."

Cullen chuckled. "It's an honor, Ser Dogspawn." He saluted the Mabari with his free hand. Dogspawn sat and acknowledged him with another short bark.

Varric turned to Cullen. "The guest rooms are in the west wing." The dwarf patted him on the hip. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said with a wink. "And if you do, try not to wake Sandal. That...might be _awkward_."

"Wait. What?" Cullen asked, surprised.

Varric looked confused. "Don't you two have a _thing_ going?"

Cullen blushed and shook his head vehemently. "No. Fraternization between mages and Templars is _strictly_ forbidden."

"Huh," replied Varric. "If you weren't _fraternizing_ with her all afternoon, then what in Andraste's name _were_ you doing?"

Cullen stared down at Varric, unable to come up with a sufficient answer. 

"Forget it," Varric said, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm going to go check on Hawke. The girl will get her book and Meredith will never know you were involved, you have my word. Is there anything else before I go?"

Cullen sucked in his bottom lip. "Don't tell her my name. And when you come to collect your favors, don't mention hers to me either." Cullen turned on his heel and began to ascend the staircase with Dalish in his arms. "Names have...power." 

He didn't want hers to have any over him.

~~~

"You are cordially invited to bear witness to the wedding of King Alistair Theirin to Lady Elissa Cousland of Highever..."

Cullen tore up the invitation and threw it in the fire. Ferelden's Circle of Magi had been disbanded and the mages given their freedom, thanks to the boon Alistair had granted to the woman who would be his Queen. There was no place left for a Templar in his home country and he was being assigned to the position of Knight-Captain to the Kirkwall Circle. 

Whether he liked it or not, his future lay in the Free Marches. Come what may.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of Triptych, a prequel to Herald and Commander: A Romance in Four Parts

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of Triptych, a prequel to Herald and Commander: A Romance in Four Parts


End file.
